On December 2, 2010, when LeBron James and the Miami Heat visit the Cleveland Cavaliers, I believe it will be the most extraordinary (and potentially dangerous) sporting event of the year. Somebody is going to shoot LeBron James in the knee and nobody can convince me otherwise.
Amidst the blue-collar rust-belt of "tea party" sentiment, in a manufacturing economy decimated by over 10 percent unemployment, and in a town officially pronounced dead by the graceless departure of its lone, prodigal asset, the plot is hardly fantastic.
Consider the elements:
- Dan Gilbert, the majority owner of the Cavaliers, effectively nudged a fatwa against LeBron James as a result of his scintillating letter to season ticket holders (a response to LeBron's nationally televised "The Decision.") Gilbert was eventually fined $100,000 by NBA Commissioner David Stern, and was additionally "refudiated," as Sarah Palin would say, by Rev. Jesse Jackson, who suggested Gilbert's comments "personify a slave master mentality." Without drawing parallels to Iran's funding of Hezbollah, it does appear as if Dan Gilbert, perhaps via compromised stadium security, is poised to be an enabler.
- Speaking of proxy wars, there was a telling foreshadow last weekend at a Cleveland Indians baseball game. Whippersnapper X and his lovely girlfriend were ejected from Jacobs Field for "safety and security purposes," due to the young man's brash fashion sense -- a freshly pressed LeBron James, Miami Heat jersey.
- "History doesn't repeat itself, but it often rhymes" -- the etymology of Cavaliers is ironically borne by the English Civil War, a name that was chiefly associated to the Royalist supporters of King Charles I. As loyal protectors of King Charles, the "cavaliers" were described as "malignant men ... without having respect to the Laws of the Land, or any fear either of God or Man, who were ready to commit all manner of Outrage and Violence." Needless to say, these Cavaliers will not be defending "the King" during December's territory war at Quicken Loans Arena.
For those of you who dismiss this admittedly outrageous prediction, or the plausibility of such venom within the context of sport, I refer you to the memory of Andres Escobar, the Colombian soccer player who was promptly killed after scoring on his own goal during a 1994 World Cup loss against the United States; or Bill Buckner's 10 year fly fishing trip in Idaho; or the fact that Steve Bartman now works for a multinational corporation in Europe.
For better or worse, our beloved sports teams (and their respective heroes) routinely crush the little-league myth that "it's just a game," and often play a marquee role in our desire for the personal and/or tribal identifications that are so fundamental to the human condition. No modern athlete had more completely represented their fans sense of self and place more than the Akron-born LeBron James did for the city of Cleveland. If Seattle has the Space Needle, and New York has the Statue of Liberty, the signature landmark of Cleveland's otherwise pathetic skyline was LeBron's 10-story iconic Nike Ad.
As LeBron James punched Ohio in the face on national television when he infamously announced that he was "taking his talents to South Beach," I was quickly overwhelmed by the imagination of his inevitable return to Cleveland -- "Is somebody going to punch back?"
Based on the images of burning LeBron jerseys, I am certain that somebody is thinking about it.
We are all witnesses ...
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